Chances Lost Are Hope's Torn Up Pages
by Birdieq
Summary: A calendar. A onesie. "You would have made a terrible father, Mark." We don't always get second chances...will Mark make the most of his, or will Addison's words prove true?
1. Chapter 1

**June 8, 2007**

It's just after midnight when Mark gets paged to the emergency room for an infant with a head laceration and burns...exactly twenty minutes after he'd stumbled into the on-call room, fallen into a bed, and passed out after a long, unusually hectic day. He shuffles into a bustling exam room and is still stifling one last yawn as he grabs the chart a nurse hands him, but the name on that chart has him instantly wide awake. _Phoebe Montgomery._

 _Montgomery._

 _Well, it's not exactly an uncommon name. And Addison would_ never _name her daughter Phoebe._

Then he spots the date of birth: 5/31/2006. _Impossible._ It's one of only a handful of dates he'll never forget, and when he closes his eyes he can still see it, circled in red Sharpie. It's one he will forever associate with a tiny Yankees onesie and the happiest moment of his life.

Of course, his happiest moment was followed, just weeks later, by the saddest. No more date circled in red, no more pinstriped onesie, no more Addison.

As he approaches the gurney and weaves his way through a crowd of nurses and doctors - there's the trauma attending, a neuro attending, and a peds attending plus a handful of residents - his ears are assaulted by shrill wails, no doubt fueled by a combination of pain and fear.

Finally he gets a good look at the patient. Even matted with blood, it's clear that this squalling girl's hair is red. A soft red-gold, not Addison's fiery red, but it's enough to erase any doubts from his mind. But if her child - _their child -_ is here, where is she? _How_ is she? Was she injured too?

Answers will have to wait. Right now, whether he wants to or not, he needs to treat the baby. _Phoebe_. As soon as neuro verifies that there aren't any pressing brain or spinal cord injuries and the trauma attending finds no signs of internal bleeding he proceeds with his exam. The head lac is oozing blood, as head wounds will, but it's not too deep and when he's done working his magic, there won't even be a scar to show for it. The more urgent concern is the burns covering the baby's torso, arms, and thighs. For the most part, they're second degree burns - painful and at risk of infection, but they'll heal in a few weeks. A few spots, however, are third degree burns, and will require skin grafts.

Soon transport arrives to bring Phoebe to the burn unit. He heads off to prepare for the procedure that will follow, and by the time he gets to her room the baby is rendered unconscious by sedatives and painkillers - both necessary for what's to come. She's intubated and he's debriding the burns when the door is slides open and Addison rushes in. "Oh, Phoebe, I'm here, sweet-...Mark." She comes to a halt when he turns around, but quickly regains her composure and pushes past the nurses to the other side of the baby's bed. "Is she okay? Oh my God, those burns look awful." She looks up at him with watery, red-rimmed eyes, but he just fixes her with an icy stare.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Not now, Mark."

"Addison-"

"Damn it, Mark, how is she?"

He huffs and carries on with his work, needing a few deep breaths before he regains his composure enough to speak calmly. By the time he's ready to talk the other resident - who, along with a nurse, is helping him debride and dress the burns - has filled her in on reports from the other specialties. Finally he glances up from his work, and as much as he _wants_ to be angry...he can't. Not when she's standing across from him looking sadder and more worried than he's ever seen her.

"They're mostly second degree burns, and should heal with minimal scarring in two to three weeks. This part here, though…" he points to an area the size of his fist on the baby's chest and shakes his head, "that's gonna need a skin graft. And that bit on her arm, and probably this spot on her leg. Luckily the burns are confined to the front of her body, so we should be able to get plenty of good skin from her back, and the backs of her thighs if we need to. I'll do the graft in a few days, and we'll keep her sedated until then so she can...rest. And heal." _So she won't feel any pain from the entire layer of skin that burned off_.

Addison doesn't respond, just nods and lets out a shaky sigh before smoothing back Phoebe's sticky, matted hair and leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "It's okay, baby girl, you're gonna be okay," she whispers in one tiny seashell ear. "I'm so sorry this happened, but we're gonna take good care of you, I promise."

He lets her have a moment, waits for her to straighten up before interrogating her. "How did this happen?" he demands to know, his tone icy.

"They were on their way back from the airport-"

"Who was?"

"Phoebe. And-"

"Who was she with?" _Who is raising my daughter?_

She sees right past his question. "She's not yours, Mark!"

"Like hell she isn't! I saw her date of birth on her chart-"

"She's not yours-"

"Really? Wow, well, I guess you didn't waste any time moving on, then, huh? Well, you know what they say: once a whore, always a whore."

He doesn't mean it, not really, and regrets it as soon as the words are out of his mouth and he sees the hurt that flashes across her face. But somehow she pulls herself together and looks him square in the eye before adding another piece to the puzzle, one that leaves him temporarily speechless.

"She's not my kid."

He sputters and looks back and forth between Addison and the baby for a minute before he manages to speak. "But...but she has your red hair! And your last name!"

She lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, and she also has a father who's a bigger manwhore than you."

 **Okay, I admit it, I am the absolute worst. I haven't written anything since I started Rewriting History which was...March? I dunno. I don't have any good excuses, just haven't felt like writing. But you poor souls deserve** _ **something**_ **, and this has been on my phone since...well, I'm not totally sure when, but I started it before Rewriting History. Maybe even before the last chapter of Life Ain't Always Beautiful. Anyway, I thought maybe I'd post it and the reviews from my amazing, loyal readers would motivate me to get back into writing again...let's see if it works, shall we? A good chunk of the next chapter is already written (I actually wrote that before this) so show me some love and I'll try to get that up on Wednesday.**


	2. Chapter 2

Mark's eyes go wide. "Wait, what? Archer? _Archer_ has a kid? Who just _happened_ to be born the same day _our_ kid should have been?"

"Believe it or not, yeah. Archer has a kid. It's...kind of a long story."

"Well, she'll be sedated for a while, and I'm here all night, so there's plenty of time…"

...

After a long day at work Addison is finally free and looking forward to an evening of wine and gossip with Savvy. But when she checks her phone, she sees four missed calls - all from Archer. She frowns as she punches in her PIN to listen to her voicemails; she hasn't heard from her brother in over a month, and now he's called four times since lunch? _Weird_.

Message number one: "Addison, it's me. I need your help. I...I gotta go. Call me back as soon as you can." He sounds frazzled, and... _is that a baby?_ Can't be. Archer and babies go together like drinking and driving - never a good combination. A disaster waiting to happen, really. And, quite frankly, should probably be illegal.

She's about to listen to the second message when another call comes through - Archer again. "Archer, what is-"

"Addison, I need you to come over. _Right now_ ," he butts in. He no longer sounds merely frazzled. No, this time he definitely sounds like he's on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Why? What is going on? And is that a baby crying?"

"I don't have time for this. Just get over here and I'll explain everything, but hurry."

She sighs as she hails a cab, and, on the way to Archer's apartment building, calls Savvy with promises to reschedule their girls' night in. She hears crying the second she steps of the elevator, and has her hand poised to knock when her brother flings the door open and pulls her inside.

"Thank God. She won't stop crying, and then she barfed...like the damn _Exorcist_ , thought her head was going to start spinning, and now...now she _shit_ , and there's shit _everywhere_ , and it's awful, and did I mention the crying?"

She just stares in disbelief as her brother rambles on while a tiny baby - two months old, maybe three, she guesses - wails frantically on the couch, face beet red, arms and legs flailing. After a moment of stunned silence she looks around for signs of another adult, a more responsible adult, hell, even a teenager would probably be better a better choice than Archer. "Archer, where the hell did you get a baby?" she finally stammers before instinct kicks in and she scoops the baby up. She cradles the infant to her chest and sways as she waits for an explanation.

"I had a book signing at the med school this morning. This girl came up to me after, asked if we could get lunch later so we planned to meet at Grimaldi's, and then she showed up with...this," he gestures at the baby, still screaming despite Addison's attempts to sway, bounce, and rock her into silence, "thing...and left. Crazy bitch just left! Who does that?"

"Okay, first of all, this is not a _thing_. It's a _child_ , and I'm assuming she has a name?"

"Phoebe."

This is a serious situation, no doubt, but she can't help but snicker. "Phoebe? _Phoebe_. Who names their kid _Phoebe_? Probably some twenty-something who's still upset about _Friends_ getting cancelled," she teases, still fighting back laughter.

"How would I know if likes _Friends_? It's not like we were talking about TV…"

"So she _is_ a twenty-something. Where do you even meet these girls? Oh my God, don't even tell me she's a student there," she gasps, remembering he'd done a guest lecture at the medical school the year before.

He ducks away as she tries to smack him in the head. "Where we met doesn't matter. What matters is that you make it stop crying so can we just focus here?"

She glares and wags a finger in his face. "We're not done with this discussion," she growls before setting the baby back down on the couch. "Okay, well, she definitely needs a diaper change-"

"No shit! I told you that on the phone," he points out as she reaches for the diaper bag on the coffee table.

"So why didn't you change her?" she snaps as she digs through the bag for a diaper and wipes.

"I told you. There's shit everywhere." He shudders a little at the thought. " _Everywhere_."

Addison rolls her eyes and pops the snaps on Phoebe's grungy little pink pajamas. "This? _This_ is what you're so worked up about?" she asks, pointing to a mustard-yellow streak on the inside of the baby's thigh. There's a little bit staining the leg opening of her onesie, and some on the pajamas, but it's hardly the catastrophe her brother described.

He nods and gags a little. "Come on, just change her already, would you?"

She thrusts the diaper and wipes at him. "Oh, no. No no no. You got yourself into this mess, you can take care of it."

"Addison-"

"No! Absolutely not!" She feels bad as Phoebe continues to wail inconsolably, but by this point, she suspects, the poor child has been in the same diaper for hours. A few more minutes won't hurt.

Grumbling, he takes the supplies and kneels in front of the couch. He pulls out a wipe, takes a deep breath, and attempts to wipe the baby's leg, but at the last second she kicks - and he ends up with the yellow mush smeared on his hand. He gags again. "I can't do this," he mutters before jumping up and bolting from the room.

"Archer, get back here!" she orders, but the only response she gets is gagging, retching, and finally the sound of vomit splattering in the toilet. "Wimp!" She decides she can't let the poor child suffer any longer, so she collects the discarded supplies. "Okay, peanut, let's get you cleaned up. Yes, auntie Addie is going to get you nice and clean," she coos, trying to sound calm and happy though the baby's condition is sobering - she's thin, not exactly malnourished but there's not one extra ounce of fat on her little body, and clearly hasn't had a bath in a few days. Sighing, Addison wipes the baby's leg, removes her soiled clothes, and is opening the diaper when she becomes aware of Archer standing in the doorway; gradually he makes his way over and sits on the coffee table to watch.

"You think this is bad? This is nothing," she declares as she gets to work cleaning up the mess. In all honesty, while not a catastrophe, it's a bit more than _nothing_ but she won't admit that to him. "Just wait til she has a real blowout. Coming out both legs, up the back, up the front," she carries on, sneaking occasional glances his way and taking a smug satisfaction in the fact that he turns greener with every passing second. "Someday you'll be driving along, get home, and realize the whole car seat is covered in it," she adds, and snickers as he takes off for the bathroom again.

"Just wait til she's old enough to get the diaper off herself and you walk into the nursery one morning and find it smeared all over the crib," she continues when he stops throwing up. She laughs when she hears him get sick again, then waits for him to peek in the room again. "You know what's _really_ fun? When they poop in the bathtub. That'll happen at least once or twice…"

He returns to the bathroom, and this time he stays there long enough for Addison to finish the change and get Phoebe dressed in the only clean pair of pajamas in the diaper bag. "You're a terrible person," he accuses as she lifts the still-crying baby to her shoulder and pats her tiny back.

"I'm honest," she corrects. "Shit happens with babies. A lot of shit. Get used to it. Now, when's the last time she ate?"

He shrugs. "There was half a bottle in the bag. I gave it to her as soon as we got back here. I guess it was...two-thirty? Maybe three?"

It's after six-thirty now. "So she needs to eat. There's formula and an empty bottle in the diaper bag. Get them," she orders before heading to the kitchen. "Start boiling some water." While he does that, she measures out scoops of formula - there's just enough for one bottle - and mixes it with bottled water, then sets the prepared bottle in the water. "From now on you can boil tap water, let it cool, and make a bunch of bottles to keep in the fridge, but we don't have time for that right now."

She jiggles the baby as the bottle warms up, then shows Archer how to test the temperature of the formula on his wrist before heading back to the living room. "Okay. Feed your daughter," she says as she holds Phoebe out towards him.

He backs away. "Oh. No. I don't want-"

"Archer, you have to hold her. How did you feed her before?"

"She was in the stroller. I just held the bottle," he admits guiltily.

"And you say I'm a terrible person. Sit down!"

He does, and she gets the baby situated on his lap before handing over the bottle. "Okay, hold it like this, so she doesn't get any air. Good."

For the first time since Addison's arrival, the crying stops. The baby suckles greedily - and noisily - pausing every now and then to gasp for air before going back for more. While she eats, Addison starts taking stock of the contents of the diaper bag. "This is all she gave you?" she asks, and he nods. "And any indication when she might return?" she probes, though she's pretty sure she knows the answer.

He sighs deeply and slumps down in the chair. "She's not. Says the kid is a brat, cries all the time, doesn't sleep, never wants to be put down...she's signing away her parental rights."

"She's three months old! She's too little to be a brat!"

Archer shrugs. "She's a med student. She has bigger plans than...this." He grimaces at the scrawny baby in his lap before glancing up at his sister. "You get that, right? I mean, look at you! You're almost forty and-"

"Okay, you know what?" she interrupts before he can go any further. "I'm going shopping."

His eyes go wide with panic. "Shopping? Now? You can't leave me! I don't know what to do!"

"You have one diaper and no formula. And nowhere for her to sleep. You have nothing."

"Okay, so you make a list of what I need, and I'll go shopping," Archer suggests hopefully.

"Not a chance." After instructing Archer on how to burp the baby once she's done eating - and ordering him to change her if, by chance, she has another bowel movement before Addison returns - Addison takes off. A year ago, she would have relished the opportunity to shop for a baby; a week ago, she would have been laden with guilt. Now, there's only a sense of urgency as she stocks up on necessities - onesies and sleepers, diapers and wipes, bottles and formula, soft, hooded towels and toiletries, a portable crib and receiving blankets. In under an hour she has everything Archer should need to get through the night with Phoebe, anything else can wait.

Upon her return she finds the baby snoozing peacefully on the couch and Archer looking...well, not exactly at ease, but slightly less terrified than earlier. Together they set up the portable crib, prepare prepare bottles, and wash tiny clothes and blankets; she's just putting everything in the dryer when Phoebe announces that she's awake.

She watches while Archer, who still looks a little like he's holding a bomb rather than a baby, feeds and burps Phoebe, then announces that they're going to give her a bath. "You can get a baby bathtub later," she explains, "but for now we'll use the sink." Once the baby - who clearly does not appreciate baths - is sufficiently clean and wrapped in a towel fresh from the dryer, Addison has Archer fetch a diaper and the ointment she'd bought. "She has a pretty bad diaper rash-"

Archer looks guilty. "Is that my fault? From not changing her before?"

She's tempted to say yes, let him feel bad for a while, but sighs and shakes her head. "No, it looks like she's had it a while. You'll need to clean her really well and use this every time you change her. And if it doesn't start clearing up in a day or two, you should take her to urgent care. Or see if you can find out who her pediatrician is and get her in."

He nods as he attempts to diaper the baby for the first time - he eventually gets it, with just a little help - and gets her into clean pajamas, then turns to his sister. "Now what?"

She grabs one of the receiving blankets and expertly - but slowly, so he can follow along - swaddles Phoebe. "Most babies like being swaddled while they sleep. It stops the Moro reflex, so they don't wake themselves up. But if you notice she's pulling her arms out or rolling over, take her out and try this instead," she instructs, holding up a sleep sack. "You can probably give her another bottle before you put her in the crib. After that she might sleep through the night, or she might be up every few hours. Hard to say, they're all different. If she does wake up, check her diaper. If that's not the problem, try giving her a pacifier, and if that doesn't work she might be hungry. If that doesn't work-"

"Call you?" Archer asks hopefully.

"Definitely not. Try walking, bouncing, rocking...you'll figure out what she likes. You got this."

"I don't think I do. Maybe you should stay just for a night...or two."

"Nope. You screwed that med student, not me. You can do this, Archer. I have...faith in you," she says, hoping she sounds more confident than she feels. "I'll check in tomorrow, and we'll figure out where to go from there, okay? You'll be fine. You'll both be fine. Everything will be fine."

"Yeah, we'll be fine…"

"You will be." She scoops up the baby and kisses her sweet-smelling head. "Take it easy on daddy tonight," she coos," and Aunt Addie will come see you tomorrow.

…

Mark shakes his head. "Archer...a father. It doesn't seem like a good idea."

She smiles wistfully. "It doesn't...but he figured it out."

"So...how _is_ he? He was in the accident, too?"

"It doesn't look good." She bites her lip and rubs the back of her neck. "Traumatic brain injury, spinal cord injury...Bizzy and the Captain are on their way here."

 _Wow. It really_ is _serious._ "I'm sorry, Addie." He tries to pull her into a hug, but she backs away.

"I...I should go be with him," she says, but glances nervously at the baby.

"It's okay. She's stable, she's going to be fine. You go see Archer, and I'll stay here with her. Okay?"

She manages a weak smile and a nod. "Okay. Thanks, Mark."


End file.
